


Green Eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America wasn't jealous. Not at all. Not a chance. But that doesn't mean England shouldn't be. (usukus, sexual themes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> A/N- Ugh, super late, sorry. I really went away with this prompt :/ I hope you like it and that it was what you wanted
> 
> Prompt- "Alfred is definitely the jealous type and he comes to realize Arthur never gets jealous no matter what he does. This starts to bother him, so he tries to make Arthur jealous at all costs. Does it work? (canon or AU, either is fine!)"

**|Green Eyes|**

 

America was never the jealous type.

Yes, sure, he was a clingy child and God help anyone who tried to have a decent conversation with England while America was pining for attention in the past. But surely all spoilt children act like that? That didn’t mean that America still acted in such an undesirable fashion!

He’d had girls before. He hesitated to call them girlfriends, but they were minor relationships with humans that he mostly broke off after a few weeks of commitment and lavender perfume. He was absolutely certain that he was never possessive of them. They were allowed go out with their friends and not call him for days- in fact, if they had actually done things like that, they may have lasted a bit longer. He never stopped them from doing anything just because he was jealous of other people giving them affection- he wished he could say it was a mutual thing

Therefore, he was most certainly acting completely normal now that he and England were in some sort of haphazard relationship- they were kissing and having sex but America still had no idea how it actually happened or how they even ended up tumbling into bed and agreeing that this thing was mutual. And he had definitely always acted normal around England, minus the whole awkward shuffling and blatant denial like attitude, and most certainly not at all possessive.

He was just not the jealous type, he reasoned with himself and everyone else who liked to point out his apparently strange reactions towards other people interacting with England

Which was why he wasn’t the one who hid Japan’s meeting minutes after he had engaged in a particularly long winded conversation with England. He most certainly didn’t  _aim_  to break France’s wrist when he attempted to slip his hand into the back pocket of England’s trousers. And the reason behind that seemingly random public display of affection was definitely not to give Spain something to look at when his gaze kept drifting suspiciously to the two of them.

No way

Okay, maybe just a little

Okay, maybe a whole lot but that was completely normal! England and him were technically dating and therefore it was alright for America to not want other people to do things that could possibly sabotage their relationship and to not want France to impose his perverted behaviour on America’s now boyfriend. It was also completely normal to want to spend every waking moment with England and not allow anyone else to do the same lest the green eyed monster arise. That wasn’t possessive or even jealous behaviour

That’s what he told himself after he somehow managed to get England into that handy dandy closet outside the meeting room after he had a very intimate conversation with Portugal for far too long and if America left marks a little too high up and a little too hard, well it most certainly wasn’t out of previous pent up jealousy

And if it was, which it wasn’t, it would have only been completely reasonable.

—

It still worried him, however.

"England, am I clingy?" he asked, breaking a comfortable silence they had been indulging themselves in as England read the paper and America fiddled with his phone and, later, his sleeves.

"Yes," England replied simply, not looking up from his paper.

"Oh."

America probably wasn't meant to hear the short, "But I suppose it's rather endearing," that was rushed under England's breath afterwards.

\--

The problem was that England never got jealous at all.

Now, England had always been the type to be possessive and easily jealous in America’s book. He had been a firsthand witness to England’s bordering clingy behaviour when he was a child. God help America if he wanted to do anything by himself or if he wandered into the nearby villages without England’s consent or companionship. Every time France had come to visit him as a child he seemed to leave with far more bruises than he arrived with courtesy of England and his lack of notice concerning the impromptu visits

In fact, anyone who had so much as looked at America sideways in the old days had to face England’s wrath, be it a stranger ruffling his hair and giving him sweets as a child or a lady across the inn fluttering her eyelashes at him when he was a tad bit older. It was practically inconceivable in America’s mind that England would not be ten times as prone to jealousy as he was in the past now that they were dating.

But the problem was that England was acting completely fine. Too fine.

England was still England though. He still stuttered and blushed furiously at any affectionate gestures America threw his way and still complained and aggressively retorted to any ridiculous outbursts America made during meetings or otherwise. The only difference seemed to be that he was steadily keeping more sober at weekends and that he was a tad more open about things, but only a tad. Well, that and the kissing and sex, but they were obvious changes to England’s actions and America definitely wasn’t disappointed there. 

England had not reverted to his ways of days long gone when he would fight for a young child's already undivided attention. He was perfectly fine with everything and that in itself was wrong, especially in America's book.

Very wrong.

Like when France, as per usual, attempted to shove his hand in the nonexistent back pocket of America's suit trousers after failing to do so with England's (he had to use the hand that was not attached to his broken wrist), England paid absolutely no attention and instead took a quick glance at the unfolding scene and went back to harping on at Japan about how uncalled for it was for America to break France's wrist the first time. He says the first time because, since England was obviously not going to do anything about it, America went and broke France's other wrist for attempting to molest him. It didn't really change much because the break was no doubt gone by morning and France was back to his ways of overt sexual harassment.

-

Maybe America had just never given England a reason to get jealous. Maybe he was just such an excellently loyal boyfriend and so utterly trustworthy that England was automatically the opposite of jealous no matter what America did or wished to do with other people. That must be it.

(France was only a minor problem. England wouldn't get jealous over America getting unwanted attention from France because everyone was really in the same boat there. Well, except for Canada but France never really noticed him much to molest him and America suspected that the attention wasn't all that unwanted.)

In fact, there was no other reason America could think of! England was a person you would expect to be jealous at any little reason America gave him but he couldn't get all jealous and pouty if America didn't do anything to get him jealous- America was obviously just that amazingly awesome in the romance department that he would never let his boyfriend get jealous. (Or maybe he was so hopeless in the romance department that no one ever tried to hit on him anyways)

But, as much as America tried to shake the thought from his head (he tried, believe me, he tried. But one look at England's face in the meeting room across the desk and it was planted there like a nail in the head and no tool would be able to move that out) he couldn't get the tiny idea that maybe England would look  _cute_  if he was jealous and especially pouty. Not that England was ever cute any other time, you see- America wanted him to pout because maybe England being cute would be an anomaly. Who was he kidding, he always found him adorable but possibly more so pouting.

So America was going to try and make England jealous because now that America was wiser and far more mature he would be able to revel in England wanting him all to himself in the cutest way possible.

Unless he got, like, sexily possessive or something. But that would be great either.

\--

America went into action straight away.

"These papers are yours," England said and America didn't have to look at him to know that his mouth was drawn into a thin line. So uptight, like he always was at meetings or when America wasn't being sensible (which he actually was being for once! Probably because he hadn't actually given his meeting speech yet though).

America waved his hand at him, motioning him to drop the papers without turning around as he continued to make small talk with some nameless nation across the table, "Is that right, a lot of rain? How interesting!"

The papers landed in front of him with a thud but England didn't move a muscle after that. Even so, America did not relent (no matter how much he wanted to turn around and smush England's cheeks because he knew he would get all flustered and yelpy at the slightest hint of public affection) and continued to talk about rain in a way that he wasn't remotely interested in or had never shown any interest in before, especially to England.

He was glad of England's insistent interruptions though after ten minutes because, regardless of the plan, rain was a terribly boring subject even when it was torrential. "America, the papers are very important," England said and it was surprising that he hadn't got America by the collar already and hauled him around (and he was perfectly capable of doing so, as he had demonstrated on several occasions).

"Yeah yeah," America said, brushing him off, "So enough about rain, what about-"

England eventually, like creatures of habit do, yanked America out of his chair by the collars of his suit jacket (no longer neatly pressed, what with England's finger marks stretched into the fabric. England was the one who insisted on having it ironed, funnily enough) and pressed his forehead in close to America's in a way that was vaguely threatening but in no way territorial.

"Lest you want to seem like a complete imbecile, I suggest you read those bloody papers like I asked you," he said, his voice low and dangerous and every thought of America's plan flew out the window before he even realised that it had failed as he laughed nervously and scattered his hands in search for the stack of paper minutes.

"I didn't see you there?" he tried and England huffed in response, all but throwing him into the chair where he slumped against the side, his hands fisting crinkles into the paper.

England used the exact same response later when America attempted to crawl into his bed as he threw a particularly heavy hard backed book at his head.

Not jealous, just more cranky than usual.

\--

After several attempts went much the same way, America realised where he was going wrong.

England wasn't jealous of other people being America's friend- at least he wouldn't be any more. He would be jealous of any romantic endeavours America participated in now that they were dating or whatever.

His plan was being improved with every passing second and America was immensely proud of himself. He'd have himself a cute pouting England in no time. And if England didn't react that way, at least he'd get some darn good sex out of it.

\--

Speaking of sex, that was where he started.

England rolled away from him and flopped down on his back among a nestle of pillows, slightly out of breath. America nudged over on to his side, carefully watching England's reactions (not as carefully as he had been a few moments prior however).

"Bloody-" England cut himself off to slam his hand lightly down on his own forehead before dragging it down his face, turning his head to America with a vaguely bewildered expression. "Where did you even learn how to do that?"

Truth was, it had taken an awful lot of research. America was actually quite proud of the amount of time and patience he put into it. The research was very tough though- it involved an awful lot of internet browsing and careful studying of many websites and videos that resembled or embodied pornography (and that was definitely tedious for America as watching porn was not an enjoyable activity in any way shape or form no matter what you might imply). He'd almost went to France, unsure as to whether or not things like that were possible outside of a studio room and whether people could actually bend like that but he luckily banished the thought, almost too mortified to try it out with England, let alone raise the topic of it in conversation with France.

But America wasn't going to give England the truth in this scenario (and in fairness, regardless of the plan, it was quite embarrassing).

"You know, places," America replied vaguely, his mouth cocking up in a smirk.

England frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I pick it up, you know. From places," he said, bringing his hand up from underneath the covers to wave it a little, trying to brush it off.

It obviously worked a little too well because England's mouth quirked up a miniscule amount and he raised an eyebrow. "Should I be worried?" he questioned.

"No," America answered quickly, deliberately too quickly and the frown came back.

But it got quickly replaced by a small predatory smirk and it wasn't the jealous gleam that America wanted but it was pretty much just as attractive. "Well, I think that maybe you're the one who should be worried," England said, rolling back on to his side so he was facing America fully before entangling his fingers in his hair (too long, he needed to get the back chopped up a bit again) and pulling gently, "Because even after that, I'm not completely exhausted yet."

And it wasn't every day England offered anything resembling a round two so America decided that making England jealous wasn't the best way to get laid at two in the morning and put that plan to the side again. But only for a little while.

\--

The next time a meeting came around, America swallowed his pride and kissed everyone he could see. Seriously, the things he did for this plan were ruining his morals.

It wasn't a pleasant experience to say the least. Japan attempted to force him into marriage to protect his virtue, China hit him over the head on numerous occasions, France's beard was scratchy and horrid (and even though he was only doing cheek kisses, he still noticed that wandering hand into his back pocket which he quickly drew out. At least there were no broken bones this time) and even though he wasn't going to go anywhere near Russia (because he still had some morals) Belarus still threatened him with a knife.

But, from the corner of his eye, he could see England watching, bewildered, the whole time.

At the end of the meeting, America sauntered over to him, grinning before dropping down on the desk in front of him.

"Don't," England said, watching the stragglers loiter around the doorway around America's shoulder.

"Don't what?" America asked, feigning confusion as he cocked his head to one side.

England stared and then looked back to see the stragglers leaving. Then he looked back at America, distasteful but also expectant.

But America didn't do whatever England was expecting him to do. Instead, he just hopped off the table and wandered over to the exit nonchalantly, looking back over his shoulder to see England still sitting dumbstruck in his chair. "What, are you coming?"

"Ah, yes," England replied quickly, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair and following America out the door and in his reflection in the door's window, America could see his face looking even more bewildered than before.

\--

 

“You’re going where?” England questioned, the offhand remark America had made being enough to get him to look up from his newspaper with a look of surprise.

 

“To the movies,” America said again, fixing his shirt collar so it sat a little more straight.

 

“Oh, alright,” England said, folding his newspaper in half and resting it down beside him on the sofa, “Should I get changed?”

 

America smiled slyly to himself, putting his ingenious plan to action straight away. “What do you mean?” he asked, feigning confusion as he shrugged on the jacket he had left hanging over the counter in the hotel room, “Get changed for what?”

"For the-" England cut himself off, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves as he realised his mistake, "Oh, I apologise. I must have misheard you."

It was a clever cover up, America had to give him that. But he was far too awesome to miss that slip up! "Yeah, I'm gonna go see some cool action movie," America said, fixing his hair in the mirror, "An action one. Not your cup of tea, I bet."

"I don't mind action films," England replied, a tad on the defensive side.

"Yeah, but this ain't like James Bond or something," America said, wetting his thumb with his tongue to try and use it to smooth down his stubborn cowlick to no avail. "This is a real action movie."

England looked like he was going to complain (probably insist that James Bond was action or some such nonsense) but he must have decided against it because he sat down again, crossing over his ankles but not reopening his paper.

"Yeah, it isn't your thing," America continued, almost twirling away from the mirror, "But it sure is Jenny's!"

"Who's Jenny?" England asked, bewildered and watching him turn out the doorway.

"A girl," America said vaguely and he was off before England could complain or look suspicious.

(Of course, Jenny was made up. And so was the action film. America had to sit through an entire film about talking goldfish in a well ironed suit and slicked back hair and absolutely no date. But it was all for love in the end at least. Or sex. Same thing really.)

\--

Making out was almost as good as sex in America's book. England was very skilled at that too.

And obviously since America was so exceptionally skilled at the art of kissing, England was going to inquire some day about where he learned how to be and America was going to give him a very vague answer that would make him very jealous and pouty (or sexy) indeed. Today wasn't that day, however.

"I thought you'd have changed," England said, rolling onto the ground to make it clear that their impromptu kissing session was over and not expanding any further. America pouted.

"Changed what?" he asked, following England on to the ground and almost squishing him into the plush carpet in the process.

"Kissing," England replied, elaborating, "I mean, chaste wise, your kisses haven't changed in the least. I wouldn't know about any other changes, but I presume they are the same."

"Wait, what?" America questioned, furrowing his eyebrows together significantly.

England sighed. "When you kissed me before, the first time. It was the exact same as when you kissed me this first time."

No wonder the make out session was finished. "Uh," America said, wracking his mind to try and find out what England was talking about before- oh.

"Oh," England said, looking mildly surprised, "Did you think I didn't notice or I was asleep or something? Oh well."

England left, saying something about making tea, and left a puddle of mortified goo formally known as America melting all over his new rug.

\--

Apparently Japan thought that America sitting on his desk and making him feed him things was inappropriate. But America couldn't care less. It was all for the plan and Japan would have to just suck it up.

"Come on, give me something!" he said, his voice coming out as a childish whine.

Japan flustered, trying to push America off of the desk in front of him without actually touching him; he was practically just wooshing his hands in the hope that the few wisps of air would dislodge America from his position. Since it was to no avail, he relented. "Alright," he said, leaning down to root for something in suitcase, probably his own lunch, "But I find this very inappropriate and you are making me very uncomfortable, America-san."

America could feel England's gaze on his back and it was making him more uncomfortable than Japan guilt tripping him. Eventually, when Japan still couldn't locate any food, he heard the chair behind him screech backwards.

"I suppose I should step in then?" England said, exasperated as he went to pull something conveniently on hand out of his suitcase. America scoffed.

"Japan's got something here sure," he replied, "I don't need nothing off you!"

England blinked and said, "Ah yes, of course," as he pushed whatever it was back into his suit jacket pocket.  As he did it, Japan surfaced with some small rice box like dish that America had never seen before but liked the look of already.

"Come on then!" America said, opening his mouth and making an 'ahh' sound. Japan flustered around some more, insisting that it was improper and that America was perfectly capable of feeding himself. But eventually, as America did not relent and kept his mouth open so long it started to ache, Japan gave in and used the chopsticks to stick small bits of food on America's tongue piece by piece, flustered and quite irritated the entire time.

But whenever America looked back at England, he wasn't watching anymore.

\--

"Where are you going this time?" England asked, folding his paper in half and dropping it beside the chair, his arms folded.

"To the movies again," America hummed, fixing his tie in the mirror. He'd been doing it more and more frequently, almost every day that week. He knew it was getting on England's nerves because he had come to America's house on a special visit and America was barely ever there (and America hated it- he could have gotten laid so many times but England was always asleep or irked when he came back so it hadn't happened yet- it better be worth it in the end).

"What are you going to see?" England asked, standing up, arms still folded.

"That new action movie," America answered, waving over at the television, "The trailer for it was on TV last time, remember?"

"How?"

America turned, confused. "What do you mean how?"

"How is what I mean," England said, stern as his hands clenched white into his jacket, "That movie isn't due out until next week."

"Uhm," America said, desperately searching for a lifeline or an excuse, "I got special tickets?"

"Nonsense," England spat, "And I checked too so if you actually went to the cinema the amount of times you have said you've been going you would have had to watch every single movie there twice over!"

America had stopped actually going to the movies after he was left with dreadful chick flicks. He had started to just hang around outside fast food restaurants, ignoring the chuckling and whistling he got from passer bys in his fancy suits. But England couldn't know that naturally. "They were some good movies!" he insisted, waving his hands frantically.

"You would be bored to death in any movie that didn't contain talking cartoon animals or explosions," England said simply, unfolding his arms  but not dropping them, "Tell me what's really going on."

"Nothing is!" America insisted. However, there was no way out of this one especially since he was sweating buckets (on his nice suit too) and England could see every last droplet of it.

"No, there is," England said, his voice getting louder and  _this really wasn't what America thought would happen at all,_ "You're using every excuse you can to get away from me and-"

He cut himself off, his knuckles turning whiter as his fingers dug into the sleeves of his jacket and America panicked. England was supposed to get jealous and attractive not upset and angry.

"Ah, don't cry," America tried and England looked up, obviously not crying and very obviously furious.

"Do you think me that bloody pathetic?" he said, he voice low and dangerous and it really wasn't hot at all like America thought it would be, "Just because you cling to me for months on end and then just stop doesn't mean I'm going to pine like some idiotic teenager after you, you complete ignoramus!"

"I just-"

"Don't even start," England cut him off, "I came down here because you kept begging me for months on end and when I get here you just ignore me. I don't bloody well care if you think that just because we are- just because we  _are_  that you can get away with that because it's just rude."

America felt humiliation sinking in- how could his plan go so terribly wrong? And how on earth could he fix it without giving the whole thing away? The more he thought about it, the more England ranted and the more England ranted, the angrier he was making himself.

"Why aren't you jealous?" America blurted out, interrupting England mid rant.

He stopped, turning back to him bewilderedly before realisation set in and he flushed to his ears. "Why am I not what?" he questioned.

"Jealous," America said again, "Why are you just mad? You should be jealous."

"Jealous," England repeated and America nodded, "So you were trying to make me jealous?"

America nodded again and England pressed his forefinger to his forehead, furrowing his eyebrows. "Why on earth were you trying to make me jealous?"

America got eve redder than he thought were possible and muttered his answer under his breath.

"Go on, speak up."

"I thought it would be hot," America said, quickly before covering his mouth as if he could push the words back in, unheard.

"Hot?" England repeated and when America looked up he didn't see the fury he was expecting. Instead, he caught the sly smirk England had been giving him and his ears burned with mortification. "So you don't find me attractive already?"

America didn't know whether to shake his head or nod to signify that he found England very attractive all the time and more so right at that minute and he was far too embarrassed about the whole ordeal to speak without sounding like a wuss so he kept his mouth shut and made a small coughing noise in the back of his throat. But it was fine because England didn't seem to be expecting an answer anyways because he simply wrapped America's tie around his hand and pulled him down so they were at eye level, his breath hitting America in the nose and making him wrinkle it.

The kiss he gave him was innocent enough, chaste and quick, but England's hold on his suit jacket lapel was not, his fingers dipping into the pockets and tugging almost viciously. "I am still rightly mad at you," England said when he pulled back, still very close so the breath of every syllable ghosted on America's cheek.

Before America could lose his nerve completely- and it was almost gone along with most of the pale colours in his face- he replied, "I'm counting on that."

(And the next time America kissed someone else, his brother and on the cheek while watching England the entire time and not Canada's mildly scared expression, England was the one who dragged him to the handy plot device that was the meeting building's handy supply closet.)

**|END|**


End file.
